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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763297">Siren, Siren.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe'>Lady_Talla_Doe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bite Kink, Character Turned Into Vampire, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, Feeding, M/M, Vampire Bites, hey look its the return of metaphors, non-turning bite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:08:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,248</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gil has been starving himself, trying to resist this strange change. But his resolve can't stand up to the hunger for much longer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Siren, Siren.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hope somewhere out there, someone is laughing at my dumb ass for being so predictable. Here's more of my flavour; vampires for no reason that don't alter the plot in any way.<br/>I'm still out of commisson for health reason's and this took waaaay too long to write (like three days?) but if i don't write i'll go insane so :)<br/>EDIT: HAH lucky number 100 fic is a vampire one im sorry i gotta go cry in shame now</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<hr/><p>There’s a trace of something in the air, hot and rich. It’s alive, in the same way that the blood on the ground a short distance away is undeniably <em>dead</em>; the ground is unappealing, it makes his lip curl, and doesn’t trigger his new, strange cravings.</p><p>But this- this is vibrant.</p><p>Gil can’t help following the scent, picking his way across the taped off scene, and ducking out the far side. He gets a questioning look from a crime scene tech, but he’s careful to stay well away from the scene its self, and he’s soon alone in the narrow alley. Their crime scene was in a small park, but it backed onto a series of alleys, the turns abrupt and the corners dark and grimy with neglect.</p><p>This factory complex was old, neglected, and abandoned - and was set to be turned into flashy condos. The property was empty, they’d cleared it earlier, so he knew the smell wasn’t coming from too far into the twisting maze.</p><p>Gil can't help the low growl at the smell, following his nose to it like tracing the scent of a rose through a garden, almost in a trance; he is <em>hungry</em>, not just physically, but in a near-painful ache in his limbs. The dead blood has been just barely sustaining him, and he’s found he can never choke down enough of it to feel full.</p><p>The scent is <em>close</em>.</p><p>His teeth are getting longer, and his sharpening nails bite into his clenched palms- its a good thing almost everyone has moved on. Just him and – <em>Bright</em>?</p><p>On the outskirts of the scene, deep in an alley, Bright is peering at something in the grime as he wraps his hand in a crisp white handkerchief. The white cloth is dotted with red blood, and Gil’s chest clenches even as his hunger roars in triumph.</p><p>He stalks closer, although there’s no real need for such care- Bright isn’t paying attention. He barely glances up when Gil steps on a stick, snapping it loudly; the profiler notes his presence, but dismisses him as a threat. <em> So much trust</em>. The animal in his ribs is pleased, knows he could take Bright with ease and little struggle.</p><p>Despite his misgivings, Gil is being driven by a stronger urge, and can’t stop himself as he gets close – too close, right in Bright’s space. The kid yields to him easily, giving up his own territory without effort or question – he simply moves back, lets himself be herded back by Gil’s bulk until his shoulder touches the wall.  Only then does he look at him with something like a question, or hesitance.</p><p>“Gil…?” Bright asks.</p><p>Gil's lip pulled up slowly, and it takes him only a moment to notice the sharp fangs shining wetly in Gil’s otherwise human mouth. They prick his lips, too long to comfortable close his mouth – he’s so <em>hungry</em>, he wants to- wants to <em>sink</em> them into Malcolm-</p><p>Gil takes a shuddering breath, fighting for control.</p><p>"...<em>Gil</em>?" Bright asked again, and his voice wavers. He can see the way his eyes dart – Bright is suddenly uncertain he was awake, looking for more demons and further torments.</p><p>That <em>hurts</em>. Does he really feature in his nightmares so often?</p><p>He can barely think through the haze of desire, the <em>hunger</em>.</p><p>Gil's hand is on Bright’s coat, fingers spread out, pushing him firmly back against the wall, and he can feel his heartbeat racing though the fragile cage of his chest, the heat of his body rising up from his clothing- his tiny human form, trying to warm the vast cold universe.</p><p> Gil had always been strong - but never like this. It was effortless, how he held him pinned against the dirty bricks; waited for the concern to start to turn to panic, for his heartbeat to pick up, and that sweet small filled the air more. Bright held his wrist, the first hints of fear edging into the air, as he twisted at Gil’s skin, and his breath was so quick- racing like his heart, <em>scared</em>.</p><p> Gil snarled, and dropped his head, covering his mouth. He tried to wipe the smell away with his hand, eyeing the fingers wrapped around his wrist. Blood dripped, slowly, from the handkerchief Bright had wrapped around his hand.</p><p>A cut.</p><p>A <em>wound</em>, bleeding perfume into the air. An impossibly intoxicating, irresistible smell, and he’d finally found the source.</p><p>"Kid, I- I can't stop-" His voice was a choked growl.</p><p> Gil could feel the tremble in Malcolm’s hands, as they still pulled at his grip. He could feel his <em>pulse</em>, and it was like a hot song, beating away under his hand.</p><p>He wanted to press his mouth to it.</p><p>Press his <em>fangs to it.</em></p><p>It called to him, stronger than anything he’d ever heard; if this is what a <em>siren</em> song was, then Gil was lost, doomed to drown. He rarely stood a chance against Malcolm, but this was different.</p><p>He forced himself to release the kid’s clothing, back up enough to put some space between their bodies; it was cold without Bright’s heat, but it helped clear his head. The kid kept a grip of Gil’s wrist, keeping his clawing hand close.  His blood dripped down his own fingers, skating across Gil’s skin, and he watched it hungrily.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t. Don’t, resist!</em>
</p><p>Gil could feel his pulse in the air, taste it. It would be sweet, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted – Malcolm would break him, would make choking down the dead blood he’d lived on impossible.</p><p>He should resist, if only for his own sake.</p><p>Gil took a deep, shuddering breath. Tried to ignore the honey on his tongue.</p><p>“Bright,” he breathed, “When I release you, you gotta run.” He shook him, just enough to break the dazed look on his face. “You hear me, Bright? Run like you mean it.”</p><p>The kid was looking at him with a lot clearer eyes now, open and studying.</p><p>“….This isn’t a dream, is it?” he asked, stunned.</p><p>Gil shook his head. How he wished it was – how he longed to return to the days where crime scenes didn’t smell like<em> spoiled meat</em>, and his coworkers like appetizers.</p><p>His fangs lengthened, saliva gathering in his mouth.</p><p>
  <em>Focus.</em>
</p><p>He didn’t have long. His self control was butting up against the edges of his hunger, and he was <em>losing</em>. As it stood, Gil wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just chase Malcolm down, and bite him after he bore him to ground.</p><p>Carefully peeling Bright’s fingers free, Gil stepped back, one step and then one more. It wasn’t a lot of room, but it was all he could physically manage. Bright however, didn’t leave.</p><p>“You’re… a <em>vampire</em>?”</p><p>“<em>Bright…” </em>Gil groaned.</p><p>Malcolm hadn’t moved. In fact, he stepped away from the wall, closer to Gil, and his eyes darted over his face as he tried to put it together.</p><p>“When?”</p><p>Gil shook his head like a dog trying to shake off flies, a buzzing in his ears. “Don’t know, kid. You really have to go, hurry up.”</p><p>“I’m not leaving you like this! Are you- are you <em>hungry?</em> It’s the blood, isn’t it?” he started to unwrap his hand, and the scent his sweet blood hit Gil in a heady wave. He grabbed Bright by the shoulder, squeezing it tightly until he stopped unwrapping his hand.</p><p>“I don’t know if I can stop, Malcolm,” Gil admitted, his control already in shreds. God, he didn’t want to hurt him. Malcolm was looking up at him with such <em>trusting</em> eyes.</p><p>“You can’t hurt me, Gil.” He promised, and let the handkerchief fall to the ground.</p><p>Gil grabbed at his wrist, but it was too late.</p><p>Blood; fresh, warm blood. It dripped slowly from a jagged cut across the heel of Bright’s palm, sliding  down and puddling in the space created by Gil’s hand wrapped around his pale wrist. The detective took a deep, shuddering breath, but all it did was bring a ghost of it into his mouth; he could <em>taste</em> it on the air. Knew that it would satisfy him, like nothing he had tried before ever had.</p><p>Gil rumbled, deep in his chest, and he heard Bright’s heartbeat pick up; he wasn’t quite scared, but there was an anxiousness to him. He was unsure, despite his bold words.</p><p>“Goddammit, kid.” Gil muttered, backing him into the wall once more. He pinned him more carefully this time, using his shoulder and his own weight to keep Malcolm from shifting about as he lifted the stupid fool’s bleeding hand. He hesitated, eyes fixed on the cut, watching his red blood overflow the crevices of his bent fingers, and trickle the back of his own hand.</p><p>“Gil…?” Bright questioned.</p><p>He brought the cut to his lips, opening his mouth to lick the blood from his skin.</p><p>It was…<em>everything</em>. It was salty, metallic – everything blood had always been, but also heavenly sweet, like nectar, like- like – his words failed him, mind hazy with the sweet, sweet taste of him. Gil bent his head, pressing his lips to the wound, and suckled it gently, still mindful of how this must <em>hurt</em> Bright. He hadn’t fought him, although he was tense, hand balled in a fist and the tendons standing out in his thin wrist; he hissed in discomfort when Gil sucked on his wound, opening the cut further, but didn’t protest.</p><p>Bright’s free hand curled in Gil’s coat not pulling or pushing him, just holding. Tense.</p><p>He wanted to sink his teeth into his wrist, drink deeply from his vein- knew, instinctively, that he would be allowed. Reluctantly, Gil dragged his face away from Malcolm’s bleeding hand. He was breathing raggedly, but already he felt better.</p><p>“Is it enough? Will you be okay?” Bright’s shaky voice interrupted Gil’s thoughts, and there was something in it- a breathlessness- that made Gil look at him.</p><p>Malcolm’s eyes were wide and dark, pupil’s eating up the blue until it was only a thin ring. His cheeks were flushed despite the tension in his body, the tight clench of pain in his shoulders. Gil could <em>heart</em> his heartbeat, and something about its pattern was different.</p><p><em>I should step away, this is enough</em>. But selfishly, he wanted to chase what Malcolm was feeling. Wanted to taste his emotions in his blood.</p><p>Wanted to sink his fangs into his pale neck.</p><p>Gil didn’t mean to move, he really didn’t. but he was crowding Malcolm even more, dropping his no-longer bleeding hand to slide his hand over the side of his neck.</p><p>“Bright…” Gil started, and Malcolm’s heart <em>raced</em>, but his fingers curled in Gil’s coat. It was enough, and Gil threaded his fingers through Malcolm’s soft hair, tipping his head to the side.</p><p>His pulse jumped under the taunt skin of his neck, a siren’s lullaby, and they were both being swept under the waves. Gil leaned down, noting the noise Malcolm made when his whiskers first brushed his skin; the kid was sensitive, and Gil opened his mouth to let his fangs drag teasingly over his skin.</p><p>
  <em>Here come the rocks.</em>
</p><p>His fangs pierced easily through his delicate skin, sharp enough to cut clean. Gil twisted his arm around Malcolm’s back, pulling him closer as his <em>sweet</em> blood hit his tongue. It rushed into his mouth, propelled by Malcolm’s quick heartbeat, and Gil swallowed down each precious drop.</p><p>In his harms, Malcolm cried out, holding him back. His body arched like the bite gave him pleasure, and his skin was so warm, his damp panting breaths like thunder in Gil’s ear.  It wouldn’t be long, he couldn’t feed from him more than a few mouthfuls- but he was <em>right</em>, Malcolm’s vibrant, living blood had spoiled him for anything else. He couldn’t imagine ever drinking anything else.</p><p>Gil stroked his fingers through his hair soothingly, and Malcolm whimpered, a soft, needy noise. Pressed together so tight, he could feel his hardness against him, and it must have been insanity because he shifted his hand lower down Malcolm’s back and encouraged him to rut against him.</p><p>Malcolm moaned, low and wet, and resisted for only a moment, before his hips stuttered against him, setting a fast, desperate pace. Gil reluctantly pulled his fangs free, feeling them shrink back as his sealed his mouth over the bite and drank the trickle of blood.</p><p>Rather than offer Malcolm relief, it seemed to make him more needy, and his hands reached farther up Gil’s back to clutch at the fabric by his shoulders, like Bright needed an anchor. He could <em>smell</em> the moment he came, and Gil pulled away to look down at him.</p><p>Malcolm was flushed, sleek hair disheveled and knocked loose by his hands, blue eyes dazed. His collar was pulled open, tie askew and jacket half off his shoulders. He wobbled when Gil pulled away, unsteady, and a spot of blood leaked from the bite. Absently, Gil wiped it away, and Malcolm seemed to wake up, flinching slightly at the touch.</p><p>He didn’t look scared, but he watched Gil with an uncertain expression, like he didn’t know what <em>Gil</em> would do.</p><p>Gil took a deep, steadying breath, and the kid smelled like <em>him</em>, and blood, and <em>sex</em>.</p><p>He took another step back, shame creeping up. “Bright, I’m so sorry- I lost control.”</p><p>Sailors didn’t fear sirens for their music or beauty; they feared being lured away from safe routes, and bashed upon the rocks.</p><p><em>Here come the rocks</em>.</p>
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